Battleborn

An imperfect hero for an imperfect time. For generations, Riker men have been the best of the best. For the Battleborn that comes with a cost. I spit out the blood in my mouth. I had to give the other guy credit. That was a fine right hook. Every bit as good as my mom used to give me. Of course, the best right hooks were the ones I landed on the other guy rather than the ones the other guy landed on me. My dear departed mother had always taught me it was better to give than receive.

I watched as the alien weapon’s neutronium hull fractured and then exploded. The antimatter-driven explosion engulfed the remaining three ships. Even neutronium is not impervious to antimatter. In one final act of love, my wife had saved us. A piece of my heart died that day in the Paradise system. In a way, the wound never healed. I learned to live with it. I raised our son as best I could. I carried out the mission. But I missed the woman who represented everything good in my life.

I was drifting alone in intergalactic space...in a suit of busted up Battleborn armor. My oxygen was almost gone. No power. No heat. I was freezing. The only question left to be answered in my life was the manner of my death. Would I suffocate...or die of hypothermia?